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Whistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts), 1856-1913

"A Prince of Cornwall A Story of Glastonbury and the West in the Days of Ina of Wessex"

I thought how
that they had at least three miles to ride before they could come
to any place whence they could see that I and Wulf were not before
them, and then, when they missed us, how were they to begin to seek
us?
I suppose that my wits were sharpened with my danger, for I saw one
thing that might help them even while I was thinking this. My hawk
had gorged herself with her prey when the fight had turned aside
from her, and so she was sitting sleepily and contented on the high
bough of one of the trees that stood at the wood's edge. And she
still had her jesses on, so that my men would know her if they
caught sight of her by any chance.
Now the men who had me, being sure that all fear was past, began to
talk of what was to be done next, and they spoke in Welsh, plainly
thinking that I could not understand them. There were three or four
who seemed to take the lead under the one who had given the signal
for attack, and the rest gathered round them.
At first they were for killing me offhand as it seemed, but the
leader would not hear of that.
"Search him first, and let us see who he is," he said. "We may have
caught the wrong man, after all."
So they came to me and searched my pouch and thrust their grimy
hands into the front of my byrnie, and there they found the king's
letter, which they seized with a shout of delight.


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